The necessities of our story force us for a short space of time to leave Sweeney Todd in the pulpit of St. Dunstan's Church, and his house in process of demolition by fire, while we take the reader back again to Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, where the Ingestries resided in such loving and pleasant union. The communication that Sir Richard Blunt had made to them, had had the effect of disturbing the serenity of Mark Ingestrie to a much greater extent than he would have liked to admit, or than he was at all likely to let Johanna know.
She, too, the fair and gentle Johanna, felt an acute pang as she thought on the stern, revengeful character of Todd; and began to fancy, that if he wished to work her any woe, he would take a means of doing so which would touch her much more severely than as if he aimed at her own life, by attacking that of her husband, to whom, after so many perils, she was at length so very happily united.
"Oh, Mark," she said, "you will, you must promise me that you will depart at once from here."
"We will be gone directly, Johanna. But who have we here? Why, there is an arrival already. I will go and see who it is. It is some one in a coach."
"Oh, no—no, Mark, do not go."
"Not go?"
"No. You do not know but it may be some horrible scheme of that fiend in the shape of man, Todd, to lure you to the door, and kill you. I am full of fears, Mark, and cannot bear to let you go from my sight a moment."
"Oh, Johanna, this is unlike you, indeed. There now, look from the window, dear, and you will soon see how little you have to fear. Why, it's your father and your mother. Do you not see them, or does your tears, and your fears together, blind you?"
"A little of both, Mark," said Johanna, with a faint smile; "but I see that my dear father is there, and my mother, too. I will fly to welcome them. They have heard of the escape of Todd, and cannot endure to have us out of their sight."
As Johanna spoke, she hurried to the door to receive Mr. and Mrs. Oakley. The old man caught her in his arms, as he said—
"Oh, my own dear child! Thank God I see you safe again!"
"Safe, father?"
"Yes, my darling. You know that dreadful man?—that—that—Oh, I don't know what to call—"
"The horrid Todd," put in Mrs. Oakley, as she kissed Johanna. "He has escaped, my dear, from Newgate; but, of course, Sir Richard Blunt has been here to tell you, as he said he would; so you know all about it."
"Oh, yes—yes. Come in; I am so glad you have come."
"And so am I," said Mark Ingestrie, making his appearance in the hall; "for here is Johanna starting at every little noise, and I do believe if a mouse were now to run across the floor she would fancy that it was that old rascal, Sweeney Todd."
"Ah! but, my dear boy," said Mr. Oakley; "you really don't seem to have any idea of what a dreadful man he is—you don't, indeed."
"I don't care either, father; but I only wish one thing, and that is, that he would be so good as to trust himself, for about half a minute, within arms-length of me, that's all."
"Heaven forbid!" cried Mrs. Oakley. "My dear son, you don't know he used to—to—what did he call it, Johanna?"
"Polish people off, ma."
"Ah, to be sure."
"Well, it's no use talking," said Mark; "but if ever I get hold of him, I'll polish him off to some purpose. But you have just come in time for me to say a very serious thing to you, mother, indeed."
"Oh, what is it?" cried Mrs. Oakley.
"Don't agitate us," said old Mr. Oakley, putting on his spectacles upside-down. "Don't agitate us, my boy, but tell us at once what the dreadful thing is."
"Why, pa," said Johanna, "Mark did not say it was a dreadful thing he was going to say."
"Well, then, my dear, what is it?"
"Ah, that, indeed, I don't know; but I would wager—yes, I would wager anything, that it is something not dreadful at all. Come, Mark, what is it?—Speak out."
"Then, it's just this," said Mark. "We are going out of London, and I want you both to come with us, for I know very well if you don't, that you will be as miserable as possible, thinking of Johanna, and that Johanna will be in much the same state thinking of you, and that you will dream every night of Todd."
The old couple looked at each other with surprise and gratification. Mr. Oakley took off his spectacles, and said—
"My dear boy, do you know, I was just going to say that—that—"
"That, in fact," put in Mrs. Oakley, "we would be glad to go with you, if you would let us, for Sir Richard said he would advise you both to go out of London, and leave him to find out and hang Todd at his leisure, you know."
"Yes, that was it," said the old man. "That was the very thing that brought us over here, my dears; so if you will only be so good—"
"Come, come," said Mark, "it is, you must be so good. I asked you first, you know, so you do us the favour. Is not that it, Johanna? Of course it is."
"You are very, very good and kind, Mark."
"Oh, stuff! not at all; I say what I like, that's all, and when I say that it would please me mightily to have your father and mother with us, Johanna, where we are going, I mean it from my heart, as you know well."
"I know you do, Mark. And poor Tobias, father, is to be with us likewise. You have heard all about poor Tobias?"
"Oh, yes—yes."
"Well, then, Sir Richard Blunt told us that it would be the death of the poor lad if he should be in London and hear that Todd has escaped from Newgate. So we gladly agreed to take him with us, for he—more than any one—has suffered deeply from Todd's wickedness."
"Hilloa!" cried Mark, as he glanced from the window. "If ............